


Bridge Variations: Connection

by kerithwyn



Series: Quantum Entanglements [9]
Category: Fringe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-25
Updated: 2011-09-25
Packaged: 2017-10-24 01:15:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/257241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerithwyn/pseuds/kerithwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A conversation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bridge Variations: Connection

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Post-s3 finale, in just under the wire of s4.
> 
> Notes: "Bridge Variations" fic, spinning off from "Worlds Collide" in the Quantum Entanglements series. Immediately follows "Evolution."

Everyone else is gone or asleep, and it would just be rude at this point not to talk to her. Besides, Charlie said he should and Lincoln knows by now that Charlie is always, always right. (Except when he's not, and that rarity usually involves bugs).

He fills the mug one more time from the seemingly never-emptying coffee pot--still kind of a magical phenomenon, as far as he's concerned--and walks across the room, savoring the flavor. He really should take it easy with this stuff, withdrawal was bad enough the first time, but he figures he's earned the indulgence after the last few days.

Olivia is perched on a stool at the computer Astrid had been working with, staring at the screen. She's wearing glasses, which are...inordinately sexy for such plain black frames and wow, he really has to get himself under control.

He opens with a casual "Long day,"

\--and freezes. Lincoln is usually quick with his wit, glib in his speech (Charlie likes to say "slicker than owl shit," which often leads to some pretty disgusting speculative conversations about what his partner likes to use as lube), but somehow this other-Olivia has him tongue-tied.

Olivia doesn't seem to notice and nods, distracted, still looking at the screen. "I don't sleep much. Besides, everyone agrees it's best if I stay here to keep an eye on the machine."

He can't even imagine what she's capable of. "So this crowbar thing you did, is that...I mean, are you doing something now?"

"No, it was kind of...well, a telekinetic surge. Like finding a hidden pause button." Her glance over at him is tentative, probably expecting him to look at her like she's crazy.

After everything he's seen, he's hardly one to judge. "No, I get it, we've seen things like that before. People manifesting abilities. Most of them--" he starts, and bites his tongue, literally, on the next words.

No way Olivia was going to let that go, just like Liv wouldn't. "Most of them what?"

"Aren't very...stable," Lincoln says, knowing it's weak, and then it hits him that she knows this already. "Like Milo Stanfield."

Olivia's eyes narrow slightly behind the lenses and her gaze goes slightly upward and to the right, remembering. "With...the pen."

"Yeah. I just meant to say you, uh, you're not like that."

Olivia smiles a little, the look full of irony. "Well, it's nice someone thinks so." She takes off the glasses, which is a mercy on one hand and leaves him the focus of her unfiltered gaze on the other. Her intensity is kind of overwhelming; Liv can be intense too, but in a more explosive way, and he has to stop comparing these two women *right now.* "Thank you for...handling Fayette. Dealing with your Dr. Bishop is difficult enough, but that man--the last time I saw him, he was standing over me with a scalpel."

He makes another mental note to see that the Secretary and Brandon Fayette get what's coming to them. Somehow, somewhen, after their universes have stopped trying to tear themselves apart. "The Secretary usually has him holed up in a lab, so we didn't know...but unfortunately, he's the one who knows the most about the machine on our side. I'll keep him on task."

Her half-smile is wry and full of resigned understanding. "Sure."

Lincoln gestures to the computer screen. "Anything good?"

"Preliminary data," Olivia says, all business. "We've barely begun to collate the information from both sides." She pauses, then adds, "Your Agent Farnsworth has already been a tremendous help in sorting things out. It's...good having that expertise available again."

It feels to Lincoln like a sign that Olivia is okay with mentioning her time in his universe, even if none of it had been her idea. Considering the circumstances, there really isn't any way to avoid talking about it. "She adapted much faster than I would have thought. Your Farnsworth--Astrid, I mean--is really great with her."

"Astrid keeps us all together. I probably don't tell her that enough." She takes a long, slow breath, rubbing at her eyes. "At some point we should probably compare older cases, it might give us some reference points to determine similarities and differences between universes. I remember the big divergences, but...."

"The small disparities might hold useful clues. Good idea. I'll get those files assembled and we can get a couple more lookers to go over them. They won't be as intuitive as Farnsworth, she's one of a kind, but they'll be more sensitive to the feel of the changes than a computer program." The logistics are going to be a pain, pulling the mentats from their assigned posts and getting them all up to speed. At least the classified elements won't be a problem, since they're physically unable to talk about their jobs outside of work. But as head of division Lincoln will be able to cherry-pick the most talented, no matter what the other Fringe teams have to say about it. If there's any time to pull rank, it's here and now. "I'll get that started in the morning."

"Sounds good." Olivia sighs, looking around the room. "This hasn't really all sunk in yet. It's unreal, to be standing here with Charlie and you, and still be myself. As far as I'm aware, of course," she adds with an expression that indicates she's far too familiar with the alternative.

Again, considering the circumstances, she has cause. "I know your experience on our side wasn't...ideal..." Lincoln starts, already wincing at his word choice but plunging ahead anyway, "but you know how we operate and I'm confident we can make this work."

"My experience on your side," Olivia repeats quietly. There's a giant invisible elephant in the room and somehow, he's not surprised when she goes right for it. "You and Charlie and...your Olivia...afterward, I felt like I'd intruded."

He can't pretend he doesn't know what she's talking about, and if she feels the need to talk it out, there's probably no better time. It's more than strange to be discussing his sex life in this room that isn't really a place, but Olivia was a part of it for while, and Lincoln is taking her at her word that she doesn't hold him responsible. "Not your fault. It's awkward on all sides and I think we just need to agree to move past it." He feels compelled to add, "And that's just about ended anyway. With Liv being engaged and all."

"Oh. You all seemed happy. I mean, I remember being happy." She bites her bottom lip and offers a confession--at least, it sounds like a confession to Lincoln. "I know what it's like to work closely with someone, you get so involved. ...I was with someone when all the Fringe stuff started on my side. John Scott, we worked together. Lines blurred. Although," she says with a wry, almost conspiratorial look, "I have to admit I'd never gotten anywhere near the thought of a threesome."

Lincoln smiles because of all the constants of his life, that one makes...made...the most sense. "The world's falling apart on my side. The usual taboos stopped seeming so important. People really do live like it's the last days."

"More vibrant," Olivia says quietly, musing. "More passionate." It's not just the world she's talking about.

"More desperate," Lincoln amends with a shrug. "More frightened."

She gives him a sidelong glance. "You never seemed very scared to me."

"Scared shitless, most of the time," he admits, and smiles to her skeptical look. "I just don't let it get in the way, that's all." And now he's going way out of bounds, but he's been dying to know. "And you, on this side...your, uh, John?"

She blanches a little and he knows the question was a mistake. "No. He died when all of this started...it's what drew me into our version of Fringe Division, actually."

"Oh. I'm sorry." But that means Liv didn't assume that part of Olivia's life, and answers the question he hadn't dared ask her.

Olivia's sardonic reply is as on-target as if she'd read his thoughts. "Your Liv was...disappointed by my lack of a social life."

There are times Lincoln would pay good money for the ability to approximate Charlie's poker face, to keep every conflicting thought from immediately spilling onto his face. The comment hits a little too hard, right in the space between Liv's engagement and the knowledge that he won't be seeing her any more. And it's not like--she would have done whatever she needed to on Olivia's side, and he had no right to be possessive or otherwise jealous, but it's still--

Olivia's touch on his hand jolts him out of the spiral of his thoughts. "I'm sorry. That was rude."

He takes a long pull from his forgotten mug before he answers, the coffee now cool but still fortifying. "It's...better we have all this out in the open." Which is apparently the trigger for his babble reflex, because *words* start falling out of his head. "This whole crazy situation, there are too many things that could go wrong. My side's nervous about yours, yours has got to be nervous about mine. But the only people who have any chance of fixing things are here in this room and however it happened, we can't lose this opportunity. Anything I can do to facilitate, I'm on it."

He can feel her appraisal through the impromptu speech. She has the grace not to laugh, and even looks thoughtful by the end.

"You know, there is one thing." Olivia makes a brief gesture toward her neck. "I came back with this tattoo. It's a difficult process to get them removed on this side, so I was wondering...."

It's not bad enough they'd brainwashed her, but they'd altered her body to match Liv's. Lincoln wonders when he'd started thinking of the people on his side as "them." "Sure, that's easy, it's just a small piece of equipment. Doesn't even sting. I can bring one back next time."

Olivia bites her lip and ducks her head, and despite his resolution not to compare the two women, the double vision is undeniable. "I remember your tattoo."

He's...surprised that she'd mention it, considering. "Charlie calls it my Arschgeweih." She smiles as she recognizes the German slang, just like Liv would. But now he's remembering Liv's-- and Olivia's-- lips on his spine and the feel of her tongue and God, they need to stop coming back to this subject. Her eyes flutter and he knows she's remembering too.

Elephant, elephant, elephant. He's trying to push away the mental images, find another subject, when Olivia says, "We talked a little, your Liv and I. We'll...behave."

He can just *imagine* the conversation they must've had. The thought of the two of them collaborating is frankly a little terrifying, but it's better than the alternative of having them at odds. He's not sure either universe would survive that. But it's been at least two minutes since he's tasted his boots and he finds himself saying, "I find that hard to believe."

Olivia gives him a sharp look. "I'm not her. We're really nothing alike at all."

He's not as sure, but in retrospect he can imagine that she'd want to be very clear about the differences between them. He also figures he's already been so inappropriate that anything else he might say this evening is just gravy. "You're...quieter. Sadder, somehow. You have super-powers."

She relaxes and chuckles a little. "They only work half the time. I guess you don't know...it was Walter who did this to me."

Olivia speaks without rancor, but the phrasing is telling. "The stuff Liv was talking about, the Cortexiphan?"

"Yes. They did experiments on kids. I was one of them."

Lincoln suddenly understands that that two Bishops aren't so different, after all, except that theirs apparently grew a conscience along the way. "Like those others, the girl who burned me. I recognized the guy with her. In my world, Nick Lane was in my class at the Academy."

Olivia looks embarrassed, and sad. "Sally over-reacted. I wish...I wish a lot of things had gone differently, between our worlds."

"Like you said, it's time to fix it." He glances around, remembering they aren't actually in a *place.* "Do you think the room will stay after the machine is turned off?"

"No idea. I'm only following some of their discussions, but the Walters think there's something missing."

"Like a part or something?"

"They're not sure. They can't figure out how to shut it down, though, so for the moment we're stuck." She eyes the humming mechanism with loathing. "They can't figure who built it, what it was meant for, unless it's really just a comic-book doomsday machine."

"It's a maguffin," Lincoln says, and Olivia laughs out loud, then covers her mouth with her hand after a guilty look at the sleeping Bishops.

It's a lovely laugh. He is completely doomed.

"You should try to sleep. I'll keep watch."

Olivia looks at him, obviously torn between her duty and exhaustion, the latter winning out. "You'll stay awake?"

He does his best to look completely alert. "That won't be a problem, you have coffee. Liv wasn't kidding, it's a hell of a precious commodity. --well, you remember that. But we've all lost resistance to the caffeine, if not the taste. I'll be wired for hours."

She nods slowly, brow wrinkling in thought. "When I was on your side, I had a low-level headache for the first few weeks. I'd thought it was just leftover from the universe crossing, but...that must have been caffeine withdrawal. Huh."

Or just the result of having someone else's memories crammed into your brain, Lincoln thinks but manages not say, for once. "Good night, Olivia."

"Good night, Lincoln."

As she crosses the room to an empty cot, he realizes that's the first time he's heard Olivia--in her own universe, fully in possession of her own mind--say his name.

It's not surprising, how much Lincoln likes the sound of it. He wants to hear it again, to hear her laugh, and it's also no surprise that he's turned out to be precisely that stupid even after explicitly warning himself about the possibility of falling for her.

But it's not acceptable. He has a job to do here, more important than any before in his career and possibly more important than any in the history of his world, and he's going to damn well earn the trust that's been placed in him and get it done.

He can't let anything get in the way, especially not himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Arschgeweih = "ass antlers," German slang for a tramp stamp. I'm sure Lincoln's is very tasteful. *tongue, cheek*


End file.
